Secret Fantasy

“About rolls and butter?” He lifted the tray and revealed her breakfast selection. Better than delving into the subject of real fantasies with a half-dressed woman he desired.

“About eating breakfast on a tropical island with a gorgeous man by my side.” She held on to the slider door with one hand and swung around until she’d joined him on the courtyard overlooking the gardens. “And how can you call a continental breakfast just rolls and butter?”

She settled into a white wrought-iron chair, crossing her legs and revealing an expanse of skin that had him drooling for far more than the food on the tray.

“Because I prefer sweets,” he said. He couldn’t control his tone of voice, deepened by her effect on him.

She picked up a strawberry from the side dish of fresh fruit. “Sweet like this?” she asked, twirling the ripe, red berry between two fingers. “Or more like this?” She lifted a sugar-coated pastry from the basket.

“No.” He walked to where she sat. Bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned over her, close to her mussed hair and fresh skin. “More like this.” He brushed his lips over hers, meaning to keep things light.

And he did. Featherlight and teasingly soft, he managed to maintain control-until she sighed. A soft sigh that did him in. His knees nearly buckled. Hell, if not for his grip on the chair, he’d have fallen at her feet, and that was a first. But he held on to his dignity and allowed himself a long, lingering taste of her luscious mouth before forcing himself back.

He lifted his head and found her studying him, a smile on her well-kissed lips. “Sweet enough?” she asked.

“For now.” He shrugged, his attempt at nonchalance pathetic, he knew. But now that he’d had an appetizer, maybe he could call himself satisfied and get down to business. He ignored the voice in his head branding him a fool and moved around to the opposite side of the table, settling himself across from her. “So, are you enjoying your vacation?”

“More each passing minute.” Her lips twitched with the effort to withhold a smile. She had him and she obviously knew it. “Coffee?”

He nodded. “But let me. I’m catering this meal for you, remember?” He reached for the carafe.

“You brought the food, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help serve. I’m not some helpless female.”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “In that case, I’d love a cup of coffee. Black.”

She grinned and took the white carafe off the tray and filled his cup.

“So you’re not a helpless female and I already know you’re not a feminist-”

“How would you know that?” She poured herself coffee and added a small amount of milk, stirring while she awaited his answer.

“Because I took your key, held the door open for you last night and lived to tell about it.”

She laughed. “Think what you want but if you ever step on my rights, you will hear about it.”

He tucked her warning away for later thought. It wasn’t something he could let himself think about and still do his job. “I have no doubt you can stand up for yourself. But back to my original question. You’re not helpless and you’re not a radical feminist,” he said, amending his earlier statement. “Then what are you?”

“In real life?” She ripped off a piece of donut and popped the sugar-laden treat into her mouth. She pointed to her stuffed cheeks and held up one finger.

Stalling. He recognized the tactic. “Yes, in real life. I don’t plan on letting the world intrude but I would like to get to know you a bit.” He lowered his voice. “I’d like you to get to know me, too.” And he meant it, Doug realized.

As much as he could share with her, he wanted to. He’d spent his youth relying on himself, and even after the Houstons had brought him home, he’d been afraid to let them in. It had taken much patience on each of his adoptive parents’ part to gain access to his heart. Yet here was Juliette, a woman he’d just met, a woman who probably possessed information he needed, and Doug found himself wanting to open up as much as he wanted to listen to her in return. He shook his head in frustration, knowing his reasons transcended the charade he’d been forced to play out here on Secret Fantasy. She was getting to him and that put his story and his heart in danger.

The charade he’d willingly begun and needed to continue, his internal editor silently corrected. “I’ll make it easy for you and tell you something about me first. I’m a writer.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee.

She swallowed the last of her donut. “I’m a PR consultant for a pharmaceutical company,” she said. “And I’m single.”

He nearly choked on his coffee.

“I just thought you’d want to know.” She batted her lashes in a deliberate attempt to flirt and have fun.

He grinned. “Same here. I’m single, I mean.”

“Ever married before?”

“Nope.” That she’d delve into personal subjects surprised him and opened the door for questions of his own.

“Ever come close?” She asked before he could toss the question back at her.

Damn, she was good. She knew how to hit a question dead-on and leave him squirming in his seat. The woman had journalistic instincts she knew nothing about. He eyed her closely. She’d settled in, obviously content to eat her breakfast and wait until he decided to answer.

He let out a groan because he wanted to confide in her, yet sharing his secrets was in direct opposition to his goals. Still, he answered her anyway, not glancing away and not hiding his feelings from her curious eyes. “Is it possible to come close if you never intended to marry in the first place?”

“It is if you got caught up in the swing of things.” And Lord knew Juliette could understand that. She’d been so wrapped up in what she thought was reality, she’d been blinded to the truth.

“More like I got involved in a relationship where we each wanted different things only neither one knew it until it was too late.” His heavy sigh settled around her.

“Too late for what?” She leaned forward, needing to hear his answer. Needing to know she wasn’t the only one who could be fooled and betrayed.

His deep gaze locked onto hers. “Too late for someone not to get hurt.” His stare never wavered, his voice was strong and full of remorse.

Juliette let out a breath of air. “I know what that’s like.”

He tipped his head to the side, curiosity and something more in his eyes. “Guess we have that in common at least.”

“Mmm.” She didn’t know what had possessed her to question him on subjects she wanted to avoid herself but, like him, she was glad to see they shared an emotional connection. Glad to see they could relate on a personal level. But she wasn’t ready to divulge more, no matter how close she wanted them to get.

He shifted in his seat. Gearing up for a question in return? Juliette didn’t know but she had to back off. Now, before he turned the tables on her. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and placed it on the table. “So what do you have planned for today?”

His stare lingered and she sensed his reluctance to drop the discussion. But he pushed back his chair and stood, offering his hand for her to accept. “I thought we’d try some of the activities the resort offers.”

“Safety in numbers?” she asked wryly.

He laughed but didn’t look her in the eye. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too perceptive for your own good?”

“Not recently.” Nor would the events in her life back up his claim.

“Well, don’t let other people’s opinions make you sell yourself short.”

Talk about perceptive, she thought. She’d been measuring herself by Stuart’s standards for too long. “I need to shower and change.”

“And I have some things to take care of with Merrilee.”

Regarding his fantasy or just his stay on the island? Juliette narrowed her eyes, dying to ask. But she remained silent, knowing that if she respected the parameters of his fantasy, he’d do the same for hers. They never had to discuss her failings or the reason for her trip here-unless she wanted to confide in him. A shocking possibility.

“Let me walk you out.”

He shook his head. “You relax. I’ll head around the side of the cottage and meet up with you later.”

She smiled. “I hope so.”